


Dream a Little Dream of Me

by olio



Category: Star Wars (Marvel Comics), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-04-28 14:14:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,060
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14451009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/olio/pseuds/olio
Summary: This time the prison break isn't a dream.





	Dream a Little Dream of Me

**Author's Note:**

  * For [weakinteraction](https://archiveofourown.org/users/weakinteraction/gifts).



“Hey.”

Magna Tolvan jerked awake to the uncomfortable sensation of a hand clamped tightly over her mouth and someone’s breath hissing in her ear, and instantly began to struggle. The lights were dim, and her eyes, still bleary from sleep, couldn’t make out who – or what – was hovering above her, but she doubted she would be at all fond of whatever was about to happen. Waking up in a cell was unpleasant at the best of times, never mind while awaiting execution, and waking up to discover oneself _manhandled_ was sufficient to throw nearly anyone into a panic. If she were the sort to panic. Which she most emphatically wasn’t.

An arm wrapped around her, and she – definitely not panicking – struggled harder to throw off this attempt to restrict her movement. The fog of sleep clung to her, she tried to flip her attacker off, pushed an elbow back to hit vulnerable flesh, managing at least to dislodge the hand over mouth. But before she could let out more than a confused, “Who?” the hand was back, accompanied by more hissed words.

“Shh! Shush! I mean it! This is a rescue, can’t you even make that easy?”

Wait, that voice…  It _couldn’t_ be, and yet the impossibility of it was nothing to the excitement that washed through her. “Joystick Chevron?” Oh, she _had_ to be dreaming again. Though the feel of the other woman’s body against her own felt so deliciously real, warm and _living_ and present in ways the all too easily vanished versions of her imaginings never had been. She’d imagined what the press of their bodies would feel like more times than she cared to admit, even to herself, but this felt different, so much _better_ than anything she’d come up with alone.

“You know that isn’t my name, but come _on._ Do you want out of here or not? We only have so long before they realize something’s wrong.” Joystick – or whoever she was – offered Magna a hand. “Coming, Sir?” And Magna took it, somehow feeling as if she was taking on so much more than just assistance standing.

Magna knew she should probably put up more of a fight – she _was_ an Imperial officer, after all, disgraced or not. Being kidnapped by this woman, her mortal enemy (or mortal nuisance, or, well, subject of far more fantasies than was at all seemly, confined to her own head though they might be), the very _reason_ she was imprisoned and awaiting judgment in the first place, was certainly not in her training. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to care. If it came to a trial, perhaps she could still argue her case, get her position back, but it was by no means a sure bet, as the Empire was not known for its second chances. And when it came down to it, she vastly preferred living on the run to dying for the Empire.

So she followed the so-called Joystick from her cell into whatever future might await her. She didn’t even know the woman’s _name_ and yet here she was, throwing her life into her hands, and she felt…freer than she had in ages, if she were being honest, freer perhaps than she had felt since academy, Imperial discipline cast to the winds.

They managed to make it to the exit door before an alarm started blaring. “Well, shit,” Joystick said, grabbing Magna’s hand. “Run!”

Legs pounding, they sprinted off, dodging behind boxes and any other cover they could to try and keep from being seen. The fact that it was night helped, but even so, before long they were spotted, and blasterfire followed them the last stretch towards their destination. They finally reached a small ship, and frantically ran up onto it, and only once they took off could Magna relax, at last.

This also, of course, left her time to come up with questions. The major one, first: “Why did you rescue me?”

Joystick paused in her contemplation of the ship’s controls and grinned at Magna. “Because you’re cute, why else?”

Magna raised an eyebrow.

“Oh alright, I need an officer to help break into an old Imperial facility to get at some artifacts. I tried on my own, but,” she shrugged, “I couldn’t _quite_ get in. And might have ended up with a few blasterbolts too close for comfort.” Then her smile returned, a cheeky grin that Magna knew should be infuriating but instead struck her as far too endearing. “And you _are_ cute.”

Magna felt her traitorously pale complexion warm and knew she had to be sporting a furious blush, but soldiered on regardless. “In case it escaped your notice, I was in a _cell._ I’m not exactly in the Empire’s good graces at the moment, and it is entirely your fault. So for one, I probably can’t help you, and for another, I don’t see why I _should_.”

The maddening woman just shrugged again, grin still firmly in place, then walked up to Magna and placed a hand on her chest. “Because I’m cute?”

Magna groaned, trying valiantly to keep her eyes away from those smiling lips, but that just left her looking at the rest of Joystick’s – ugh, did she really have to keep thinking of the woman as Joystick – face, her far too lovely brown eyes, adorable nose, and – okay, Magna could admit she _might_ have a problem as her eyes flickered back to the lips.

But she could swear the other woman was looking at her lips as well, and maybe she dipped her head down, towards a tilted back head and lovely lips, and suddenly they were kissing. It was tentative, soft, much softer than Magna had been expecting, but when they parted she still felt as if she were surfacing from a the depths of an ocean, and she very much feared she would drown if she didn’t take care. This woman was _dangerous,_ and if Magna went along with any of her undoubtedly wild schemes, she’d probably end up dead before long. Yet she couldn’t quite bring herself to care.

“When _will_ you tell me your name?” Magna asked, her fingers twining through certainly-not-Joystick’s hair.

“Oh, I don’t know.” The woman grinned, still infuriating, but somehow Magna found she didn’t mind nearly as much as before. “I think I rather like being mysterious.”


End file.
